The Girl Behind the Mirror
by Fighting-this-War
Summary: Set after Crow's Feet in Series 5. Catherine feels old and someone wants to tell her she's not. Brillows, YoBling, Slight WCR


_I know this has probably been done already but I lost touch with CSI about 2 years ago (around series 6) and so when I recently got back into it, I needed something to ease me in to fanfiction writing again. I watched Crow's Feet and thought this would have been a nice accompaniment._

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She didn't get it. Why did she look so old but feel so... young? Of course she didn't really look old, she had become so accustomed to this new world of self conscious girls, thanks to Doctor Malaga and this case, that she was beginning to think this was her life. She felt a tear slip down her cheek as she concentrated on the deepened wrinkles around her eyes, the slightly sagging skin around her cheeks and the dull spark that used to light up her blue eyes. Even though the mirror was just that; a mirror of life, it seemed to be unfairly distorting reality for her today. She slumped onto the bench in the middle of the rows of lockers, slamming the metal door hard with remorse but at the same time, hoping the mirror would shatter and this new reality would return to being just a nightmare and she could be secure in her own skin once again. She didn't realise she was no longer alone until Warrick's voice shattered the silence.

"Nick told me that the girls in your case were drinking their own urine to stay beautiful and youthful! Isn't that just the most extreme thing?" He exclaimed to her back.  
"I dunno, these women were desperate to stay beautiful; Dr Malaga is the monster who gave them to means to do that. If it wasn't for him, they might not have even discovered what urine therapy was and they might even still be alive today." She responded evenly, voice thick. Warrick didn't respond, instead he stared at her back, her just-below-shoulder-length beautiful blonde hair. Scared by the silence, Catherine finally turned to face him and he saw her tear stained face at which point he sat down slowly, eyes trained on her.

"What's this about Cath?" He asked softly, referring to her defeated demeanour, her apparent depression and her empathy for the victims. Though Catherine had held his gaze solidly for seconds before, she averted her eyes just then so she was looking at the deep engrained wood bench instead. Slowly, she raised her right hand to wipe her cheeks and eyes, allowing her hair to fall over her face.

When she didn't respond, Warrick exhaled deeply.

"Catherine," He whispered almost and wilfully forced her to look at him. She complied. "What is going on?"

She gave off a falsely secure smile and shrugged. "I just, I'm getting older and I thought I had dealt with that but this case just rattled me, that's all."

Warrick didn't believe her and for good reason. He gave her a doubtful look.

Strangely, she felt compelled to tell him the truth. "You know, last week I was confident, I was secure with who I was, I was okay with getting old because I was happy with myself and my life. Now, I feel like a lost little girl who has done nothing with her life and is getting older and older with every passing second. I'm not vain, I've never cared before this case but something about Dr Malaga, and these women, it's all just unravelled everything in my head. I see wrinkles getting deeper, I see people living life, I see people laughing and managing life seamlessly and yet I feel like I'm failing. I'm drowning and no matter how much I claw myself back up, I get tired half way and fall back down again. I'm trying to make Lindsey into a responsible teenager who is happy but she's so angry and I feel she wants to just get away from me all the time. I can't cope; I just can't do THIS anymore."

By the end of her tirade, her voice had started to crack and the tears erupted once again but Warrick wasn't about to let her suffer alone.

"Cat, it's perfectly natural to feel doubtful about things from time to time, but I don't need to tell you that you are beautiful, powerful woman. I know nothing's perfect, but what we do everyday - put creeps and murderers away every day - that's amazing and I think you know that." He smiled slightly, trying to put his superior at ease; little did he know that she was entirely at ease in his company. "Lindsey will come around, she's lost her dad, she's trying to find an outlet, she just needs time, you just gotta keep trying."

Catherine nodded slowly. "What about me? Who takes care of me?" She responded almost in a panic, her voice thick with emotions that Warrick couldn't ever comprehend. The pair fell silent once again and averted their gazes for a long time before Warrick finally spoke somewhat shyly.

"I will, if you'll let me." He softly answered, his eyes glued to the floor before he finally lifted his head slowly to look at her. Catherine was no longer shedding fresh tears; instead she had a smile on her face that seemed to deflect the tear streaks on her cheeks. Seconds later she placed her hand into his, immediately feeling the warmth and electricity as he closed his fingers around hers.

"Thank you." She half mouthed, half whispered.


End file.
